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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099288">Sufficiently Vague, a Proximity Story</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dollypegs/pseuds/Dollypegs'>Dollypegs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Proximity Stories [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:14:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dollypegs/pseuds/Dollypegs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley have happily adjusted to life in Lower Tadfield.  Warlock?  Maybe not so much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Proximity Stories [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sufficiently Vague, a Proximity Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sufficiently Vague - A Proximity Story</p><p>By Dollypegs</p><p> </p><p>Evening, late summer, just outside the village of Lower Tadfield…</p><p>If anyone had told Crowley a year ago how domestic he would be today, the demon would likely have pitched himself off a nice tall building and forgotten to use his wings.</p><p>Nowadays, he didn’t mind so much.</p><p>His angel was happy with his books and their old, stone cottage.Crowley was happy with his obedient and terrified garden, and he had already begun a long-term project, rehabbing a section of the old apple orchard on the property.</p><p>Warlock spent his summer running wild across the landscape with the Them, and learned a little more every day how to navigate actual friendships with his peers.</p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale had been anxious at first, though Crowley would never admit to it.</p><p>While Adam might take any of Warlock’s peculiarities in stride, there were three other children in the group. </p><p>Crowley thought Pepper would object to yet another boy in their midst, but she seemed to regard Warlock as some sort of strange American cryptid and fired questions at him about America non-stop for the first day of their acquaintance.</p><p>She was let down when he explained that he had never been to America, didn’t know how many ice cream flavors were typical there, and more or less considered himself English.</p><p>Brian was just happy to have a friend who didn’t mind getting as dirty as himself.</p><p>Wensleydale, surprisingly, was the one who had the worst time of it.</p><p>As afternoon mellowed, and the Them and Dog were loafing in the front garden at Gray Wing Cottage, Crowley noticed Wensleydale had wandered off from the others, and among the apple trees where he and Aziraphale were enjoying some wine, bread, and cheese.</p><p>“Whatcha, Wens?” Crowley asked.He hated to see a kid look so out of sorts.</p><p>“Umm…”. Wensleydale pushed his glasses up his nose.“Nothing?”</p><p>Crowley shook his head.</p><p>“Try again.”</p><p>Wensleydale sighed and plonked himself down on the edge of the blanket. </p><p>Aziraphale conjured up an extra glass, and poured out some wine.Miraculously it became lemonade, which he offered to Wensleydale.</p><p>“Thank you,” said the boy distractedly.</p><p>“You’re entirely welcome, my lad,’ said Aziraphale.</p><p>“I’m thinkin’,” said Crowley, “this is about Warlock.Yeah?”</p><p>Wensley took a deep drink of lemonade, to buy time.</p><p>“Yes,” he finally acknowledged.</p><p>“He’s not had a lot of friends,” said Aziraphale gently.“He may say or do things that are hurtful without realizing it.Or, in fact, fully realizing it.Is he bullying you?Threatening you?”</p><p>“No!” said Wensleydale, clearly startled by the idea.“No, he’s not like that at all.He’s not like Greasy Johnson or anything.He’s just a lot like Adam, well, like Adam was, when he was bonkers.Not the eyes!Those are normal, it’s just, sometimes when he looks at me, I feel like a slug he’s spared from crushing under his heel.”</p><p>Aziraphale shot Crowley a look.Crowley shrugged, unrepentant.</p><p>“Then, there’s the pain,” Wensleydale added.</p><p>“You said he wasn’t bullying you.”Aziraphale kept his voice soft.</p><p>“No, not that sort of pain.It’s just, Warlock standing by himself is fine, and Adam when he’s standing by himself is fine.But when they stand next to each other, my brain tries to skip over them, like they aren’t really there, or my brain doesn’t want me to believe they are because, obviously, they are.It just gives me a headache.Even thinking about it gives me a headache.”</p><p>Wensleydale peered up at Aziraphale as though he expected the angel to be angry with him.But Aziraphale was slow to true anger, and Wensleydale, whether he knew or not, wasn’t</p><p>likely to ever be the focus of it.</p><p>“That’s interesting,” said Aziraphale.“Tell me, does the same thing happen with you see Crowley and I together?”</p><p>“No,” said the boy.“But, you’re kind of… well… already the same person, aren’t you.”</p><p>“How’s that work, Wens?” Crowley asked.</p><p>“All married and stuff.But, Adam and Warlock are just boys.Even if they wanted to be married, they’d have to wait nearly a decade, provided they adhered to English law.Who knows, maybe my brain will adjust to it by then.”</p><p>“Ah,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>“What I don’t understand is, Brian and Pepper don’t seem affected by them, and I’m not affected by Brian and Pepper.Is it, perhaps, related to my astigmatism?”</p><p>“Nooo,” said Crowley.“I don’t think your eyesight comes into it.Maybe you’re just sensitive to it.”</p><p>“Like being allergic?”</p><p>“Not the same thing.You see them all over there?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Don’t look directly at ‘em.Just, look a little past ‘em.What do you see?”</p><p>“Funny colors.Pepper’s got bright orange, and Brian’s muddy green.Warlock’s sort of purplish, but when he stands close to Adam, there’s- Ouch!”</p><p>Aziraphale reached and put a light hand on Wensleydale’s shoulder.A soft white glow surrounded his fingers, and the boy relaxed.</p><p>“Thank you!” said Wensleydale.</p><p>“I think,” said Aziraphale, “that you should go and see Anathema, and tell her about the funny colors.I don’t see them myself, but she can see auras, and I suspect you may have a bit of that, too.”</p><p>“It never happened before,” said Wensleydale.</p><p>“It’s not that unusual,” said Aziraphale, “especially now that you’re growing up.Things change.”</p><p>“Oh.Alright.”</p><p> </p><p>While Warlock enjoyed himself in Tadfield, Warlock’s parents believed he was attending a military boarding school in Switzerland, from which he wrote them once a week.Very strict school: no phone calls, no visitors, no going home for holidays.</p><p>The money withdrawn from the Dowling’s bank account to pay for this fictitious education went directly into another account, which would someday pay for his very real higher education.</p><p>As summer wore on, however, Aziraphale and Crowley were forced to consider more immediate plans.</p><p>The conversation about this took place around the dinner table, which sat in a corner of the cottage kitchen.The table and chairs came with the house and were perfectly serviceable, as furniture went.</p><p>Crowley detested them.</p><p>But, so far, his every stab at replacing them was shot down.He was outnumbered.</p><p>Aziraphale said that the smoked glass and tempered steel set Crowley favored was far too sterile, and put him off his cake.Warlock liked that the original wood furniture had a history - in fact, several hundred years of it.It had never been replaced because of a scratch or water ring.</p><p>A homey cross stitch hung on the wall above the table.It looked contemporary with the table and chairs, until one got close enough to read the motto:</p><p> </p><p>Remember, Everyone Thinks We Are A Nice, Normal Family</p><p> </p><p>Anathema and Newt presented it as a gift at the housewarming party.It was Newt’s handiwork.He was embarrassed to admit that he was quite adept at any art or craft that didn’t involve electricity.</p><p>While they lingered over the remains of dinner, Aziraphale said to Warlock,</p><p>“We’d like to send you to school with the Them, if you’re interested.”</p><p>Warlock mopped up the last of his tikka marsala with a bit of naan.</p><p>“I forgot about school.I’ve never been.”</p><p>“Yes, and that is why we’re asking,” said Aziraphale kindly.“Or, if you want to continue with tutors, we’ll hire them, and you can go on as you’ve been doing.”</p><p>“You don’t have to give us an answer yet, hellspawn,” said Crowley.“You can think about it, yeah?We’ve got a while before we have to register you for the fall term.Just give us a bit of lead time to miracle up some documents.”</p><p>“Documents?”</p><p>Warlock shrugged, a gesture which more or less questioned why this was a problem.</p><p>Crowley smirked proudly, then smoothed out his expression.Time to be serious-er.Seriousish.And it was serious.They had gone on introducing him only by his first name for the past few months, in part because he flinched when he heard the name Dowling.Crowley suspected Warlock didn’t want to give anyone a hint of where he really was, in case the miracling away of his parent’s memories didn’t stick.</p><p>“Point is,” Crowley continued, “we can’t just write ‘Warlock’ on the registration forms.One name works great if you’re Nico or Dali, no so much for boys as school.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Warlock.“Can’t I just use yours?”</p><p>“That would still only give you one name.”</p><p>“No, I mean, can’t I use your name as my last name?”</p><p>Crowley was so shocked, he actually blinked.</p><p>“You want to use my name?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“I- I suppose it’s a good enough name,” Crowley mused.“Bit of a mouthful.And I don’t know if I’d want to be that closely associated with me, but, yeah, we can do that.”</p><p>Warlock went off to meet his friends in the woods.</p><p>Aziraphale slid over into his abandoned seat and took Crowley’s hand.</p><p>“My dear, are you alright?”</p><p>“Not really, angel.No.”</p><p> </p><p>So, they decided he would enter the village school that September as Lock Crowley-Fell, which Aziraphale thought made him sound like a firm of solicitors.</p><p>‘Warlock’ was used at home, among family.As much ethereal and occult energy was involved in hiding the boy from the Dowlings, Crowley was also determined to leave as faint and strange a paper trail as possible.</p><p>“Founding hospitals,” Crowley mused.“They still have those, angel?”</p><p>“We shouldn’t go the Dickensian route, dear.You’ll give the boy a complex.”</p><p>“Right.I can see that.He’d never be able to look at a bowl of porridge again without saying,” and Crowley put on a small, sad voice, “Please, sir, I want some more.”</p><p>So they went the Tolkien route instead.Warlock was the son of some distant cousin of Crowley’s - Americans, which explained Warlock’s accent, from Texas, which explained the wealth.</p><p>“Poor little rich boy, happy at last,” said Aziraphale with a laugh.</p><p>“Layin’ it on a bit thick, angel?He’s got to remember all this, y’know.”</p><p>“We’re not going as far as Tess of the D’urbevilles, dear.It should all be sufficiently vague.”</p><p> </p><p>And, at first, apparently, it was.</p><p>The slightly American boy with the funny name was much like any other at the Lower Tadfield Village School.Until, he wasn’t.</p><p>One afternoon, in early autumn, Crowley’s phone rang.</p><p>He was in the orchard, explaining to a dormant tree that it would return to life in the spring, bear lovely fruit, and, in fact, fruit of a different variety of tree.He wasn’t thrilled to be interrupted.</p><p>He considered letting the call go to voicemail, one of his better inventions if you asked him, which no one did.Right up there with the electronic business phone routing system, which he had modeled on the Fourth Ring of Hell.</p><p>But he recognized the number as the school, because he’d memorized it.</p><p>“Hullo!” he answered.</p><p>Aziraphale watched Crowley from the kitchen window as Crowley stalked across the grass with even longer, less controlled strides than usual.His expression was all concern, but not outright panic.</p><p>“What is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley entered.</p><p>Crowley waved his cellphone.</p><p>“We’re definitely parents now, angel.That was Ms. Crump.”</p><p>“Warlock’s teacher?Has he been naughty?”</p><p>Crowley raised a brow.</p><p>“ ‘Naughty’, angel?Really?”</p><p>Aziraphale grumped impatiently, “Has he slaughtered anyone?”</p><p>“Dunno.I asked if he’d been in a brawl or something, in case we had to deal with some other kid’s parents.She was pretty vague about it.We are due there in a half hour, though, which I don’t like.Hellspawn’s gone off to the village with Them after school.Doesn’t give us time to talk to him first.”</p><p>“Mmm, the disadvantage of being known as the idle class.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley hadn’t known what to expect of a typical English school, having never attended one, or gone to one to cause trouble.He left the small fry strictly alone.</p><p>He hadn’t expected it all to be so…. short.</p><p>The desks, the chairs, the coat pegs, the handrails for the steps.Everything sat at around his hip level at the highest.Only Ms. Crump’s desk and chair, and the two chairs arranged on the other side of it, were sized for adults.</p><p>“Mister Crowley, Mister Fell, so good to see you again,” said Ms. Crump. “Please come and sit down.”</p><p>She was a small, round, black woman, forty-five-ish, with a perfectly neat, greying poof of bun atop her head.Crowley found the hairdo infinitely fascinating.He imagined the sheer volume of the bun had something to do with hair texture.You didn’t get something like that with just haircare project and wishful thinking.</p><p>“How’re the cacti doin’, Ms. Crump?” Crowley gestured to the neat row of plants on the windowsill.“Behaving, I hope.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, actually.And, thank you for the tip.You were right, I’d gone too long between waterings.My first cacti, you know.Philodendrons aren’t nearly as picky.”</p><p>“Yep, definitely easier to discipline.”</p><p>“Er, yes.I’ll get right to the point.”</p><p>“What’s ‘e done?” asked Crowley, also getting right to the point.</p><p>“I think the problem is, he’s bored.The work he’s been given involves things he’s already learnt.Intellectually speaking, he belongs in a much higher grade.Socially, he has a bit of catching up to do.Bit of an outsider.”</p><p>Crowley stifled a ‘Wahoo’.He settled for thinking it really loud.</p><p>Luckily, Aziraphale took the reins of the conversation.</p><p>“And so, when he gets bored, he acts out, does he?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“No, that’s… well, that is it, but it’s not what you think.I’m not sure sending him off to the middle school would solve the problem.It might make things worse.”</p><p>“We would prefer he remain with his peers, of course, let him adjust to being twelve.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Ms. Crump.“A typical twelve-year-old.”</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley both flinched.</p><p>“Except,” she continued, almost apologetically, “he’s not.When he gets bored, the chalk on the blackboard sill explodes.”</p><p>Aziraphale shifted minutely in his seat and lowered his voice.</p><p>“Ms. Crump, are you saying that Warlock acts out by destroying your classroom supplies?”</p><p>“Not on purpose!”She rushed to assure them.“When it happens, he looks as surprised as anyone else.”</p><p>“Then, how can you tell… Is there a blatant indication that he is responsible?We’re not challenging your veracity, we’re just curious.”</p><p>“Each time it’s happened, he’s looked dismayed and said ‘oops’.”</p><p>“That’d do it,” said Crowley.</p><p>“It’s only small things so far,” said Ms. Crump.“No one has been injured by flying shards of chalk or piles of paper.I’ve taken to locking my scissors in the desk when I’m not using them, but I’m… not entirely certain that it’s foolproof.”</p><p>“Ms. Crump,” Aziraphale ventured, “you don’t sound a surprised or disturbed by the event as I would expect.”</p><p>“I’ve taught school for twenty years, Mr. Fell.If only exploding chalk was the strangest thing I’ve seen.I’m sorry to bring up such a sad subject, becauseI know that his adoption was quite recent.His parents’ sudden deaths must still affect him terribly.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Aziraphale, “we shocked to hear of it, but nowhere near as shocked as he was, obviously.”</p><p>“And he is an adolescent now, at an age where unexplained things might happen around him.”</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley stared at her, which she misinterpreted.</p><p>“It may sound like a fringe theory, but, it is a documented phenomenon,” Ms. Crump explained.“It’s more common in girls, but boys may also be subject to the poltergeist effect.”</p><p>“Some more than others,” Crowley said under his breath.He winced as Aziraphale kicked his ankle.</p><p>“As you’ve seen this before, Ms. Crump,” Aziraphale said smoothly, “you must have some idea of a remedy.”</p><p>“Yes, I recommend psychotherapy.It’s only for a while, and it’s certainly more helpful than telling the child to pick himself up by his bootstraps and be a man, as if that would solve anything.No offense intended.”</p><p>“None taken,” said Crowley.“I’m in touch with my feminine side.”</p><p>She took this at face value and beamed at him.</p><p>“That is very encouraging, Mr. Crowley.I do have the names of several professionals within the area, or in London, if you feel it would make him uncomfortable to be seen locally.Shall I email them to you?”</p><p>“Please,” said Crowley.</p><p>“In the meantime, I can’t see enforcing discipline for something he hasn’t intentionally done.With your permission, however, I will give him a choice of extra projects he might work on when his regular school work is finished.”</p><p> </p><p>When they got home, Warlock had sprawled across the couch in a familiar configuration and was frowning at his arithmetic text.</p><p>“Why do I care if the train left the station at five o’clock?” he asked without preamble.“It’s going to be late somewhere down the line, anyway.These things never mention the random factors.”</p><p>Aziraphale sat in his armchair.</p><p>Crowley expanded the couch so he could also sprawl with purposeful inelegance, his glasses tucked into the neck of his shirt.</p><p>“So, hellspawn,” said Crowley, “when were you going to tell us you were making chalk explode?”</p><p>Warlock peered up over the edge of his book with wide, frightened eyes.</p><p>“I’ve been ratted out,” he rasped.</p><p>“Yep,” said Crowley.“Luckily for you, by the nicest, most understanding rat possible.And I know my rats.”</p><p>“Er… I’m really sorry?”</p><p>“We’re aware you aren’t doing it on purpose, lad,” said Aziraphale.“We just wondered why you didn’t tell us it was happening?”</p><p>“Don’t wanna be a bother,” Warlock mumbled.“You’ve done all his stuff for me, and I’m not even really yours.Don’t wanna be…”</p><p>“Sent back to the Dowlings?” Crowley finished.“Not going to happen, hellspawn.”</p><p>“I guess it would be bad to go back if I suddenly blew up buildings or something instead of just chalk,” said Warlock.</p><p>“Well, yeah,” said Crowley, “you are safer here, but that’s not what I meant.You happy here?”</p><p>Warlock rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Duh!I mean, er, yes.”</p><p>“You think of this as home?”</p><p>Warlock bit his lip, and finally said, “Yes.”</p><p>“No one throws you out of your own home,” said Crowley.He put on his glasses, rose and walked through the kitchen and out the back door.</p><p>Warlock cut his eyes at Aziraphale.</p><p>“Um, is he alright?”</p><p>“No, but he’s getting better,” said Aziraphale.“Give him a moment and he’ll be back.”</p><p>Warlock looked confused, then he just looked horrified.</p><p>“Ohh!He got thrown out of-“</p><p>“Yes, that’s what happened to all of them.It just didn’t turn him mean like the rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Given free choice to pick any topic for his project, Warlock, naturally, chose to compare and contract representations of the Fall of Adam and Eve in ancient and modern paintings done in Western cultures.</p><p>He went to the usual sources on-line, but was also smart enough to look for backup in print, and the kitchen table was soon covered in bibles and other texts that would never have graced the shelves of A Z Fell and Co., not even in jest.</p><p>Crowley picked up a bible at random and flipped it open to Genesis.</p><p>“Look at that!” Crowley yelped.“Since when did the Ssssserpent have legs?I’m not a ssssssalamander!”</p><p>“I fared no better, my dear,” said Aziraphale.“I’ve certainly never resembled this sylph-like creature, not even in female corporation.And I would never wear so many cosmetics.”</p><p>Crowley flipped to the front of the book,</p><p>“Published 1978 in the United States of America.No wonder.”</p><p>“Explains everything,” Aziraphale agreed.</p><p>“I’m amazed they didn’t dress you up for roller disco, angel.”</p><p>“He’d look really cute in a pair of leg warmers,” Warlock threw in from the living room.</p><p>“I’d look like a blond Liberace in leg warmers!” Aziraphale protested.</p><p>“But then you’d have to wear hot pants to go with them, angel.”</p><p>“Just fill the kettle, dear,” said Aziraphale with an eye roll.</p><p> </p><p>Phones rang all over Lower Tadfield the next morning, as the village school initiated the electronic system that told everyone in a fifty mile radius that there was an emergency, and that the school was ‘locked down’.Something was wrong.Something was terribly wrong.Their children were in danger.But they should, under no circumstances, approach the school.Of course not.That would be dangerous and silly.</p><p>The only ‘live’ phone call was made to an ancient cottage on the edge of an old apple orchard, where two man-shaped beings were already standing, unnecessary hearts racing, in the middle of the kitchen, because they didn’t need to be told everything had gone tits up.</p><p>Crowley’s phone went off.</p><p>“Oh, shit,” said Crowley, as he lifted it to his ear.“Hullo?”</p><p>“Mr Crowley?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“This is Mrs Hellenbach, the principal of the Lower Tadfield School.I was wondering if you and Mr Fell might come down here.Immediately.”</p><p>A convoy of military troops rumbled down the road past the house in the direction of the village, and sirens went off which had not been heard since the Blitz.</p><p>“The school is on lock-down, Mrs. Hellenbach,” said Crowley.He desperately fought a giggle, which he was subject to each time he heard her name.This was serious.Seriously serious.</p><p>The sigh on the other end of the line told Crowley that this was very much the end of the line, as far as Mrs. Hellenbach was concerned.</p><p>“Considering the circumstances, I have every faith that you’ll manage to be in my office within the next thirty seconds.”</p><p>“Sure.Right there in a tic.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>The phone line went dead.</p><p> </p><p>They appeared just beyond the treeline at the edge of the playground, surrounded by heavily armed soldiers crouched in ‘ready’ positions, weapons drawn.The youngest had not yet been able to smooth over their startled expressions as they took in the scene before them.</p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale, hidden from their view, took in the scene as well.</p><p>“Well, fuck a duck,” said Crowley.</p><p>For once, Aziraphale did not protest his foul language.</p><p>“I detect Anathema’s influence,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>“How can y’tell?”</p><p>“That the ‘Hanged Man’ from the tarot deck.The jig, as they say, is up.”</p><p>“Thank you, Bogie.I figured as much.Shall we?”</p><p>“We’d best,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>He snapped the army humans back to their barracks, stopped the siren, stopped the cascade of phone calls.</p><p>Despite her world-weary tone, Mrs Hellenbach screamed and fell against the filing cabinet when they appeared, smacked her head, and fell senseless to the carpet.Ms. Crump’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted, but at least she had been sitting down.</p><p>Warlock huddled on a bench next to the door and looked glum.</p><p>He lifted his head and looked Crowley in the eye, which he could because Crowley had dispensed with his shades.</p><p>“Hastur and Ligur came for me with reinforcements,” said Warlock.</p><p>“We can see Hastur, lad,” said Aziraphale, “but where are the rest?”</p><p>Warlock shifted his gaze toward the window, which looked out onto the playground, where Hastur hung upside down by one leg from the top rail of the swings, mouth sealed with duct tape.A crucifix was burned into the skin of his forehead and an ourobous of what they suspected was holy water wound round his inert body.</p><p>“Adam sent a big crate of corporations back to hell.”</p><p>Crowley gave an involuntary shiver. </p><p>Warlock went on.“They aren’t going to stop trying, are they.”</p><p>“Er… I’m not so sure about that,” said Crowley.“That crucifix is going to leave a mark.”</p><p>“I told them to leave me alone,” said Warlock.“Now they’ve gone and made a mess of things.”</p><p>“Compared to Armaggedon, it’s not so unmanageable,” said Aziraphale.He looked into the ether.“Adam?”</p><p>Adam appeared, eating a candy bar, which he apparently had forgotten, because he whipped it down and behind his back when he realized where he’d popped to.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered.“I got hungry after all that movin’ bodies around.”</p><p>“I’m certainly not going to scold you for eating between meals,” said Aziraphale.“Wouldn’t that be calling the kettle black.We were wondering if you couldn’t do a little mind alteration amongst the school populace.”</p><p>“What do I tell ‘em?They’re not buying the swamp gas thing.Anyway, that’s aliens.”</p><p>“There was some small threat on the playground,” Aziraphale suggested.</p><p>“Like a rabid grizzly bear?” Adam asked hopefully.</p><p>“There are not grizzlies in England.”</p><p>“It could have escaped from a circus,” Adam attempted.</p><p>“Or someone’s exotic pet,” said Crowley.</p><p>“People don’t keep grizzlies as exotic pets,” said Aziraphale.“Not in Lower Tadfield, anyway.”</p><p>Crowley grinned.</p><p>“Nope, but they do keep large, hungry-looking snakes.I’ll just pop out and slither across some classroom windows, shall I?”</p><p>“You’ll scare the children,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>Warlock said, “They’re already scared.No one will tell them what’s going on.Adults are afraid of snakes.The kids’ll just think it’s cool.”</p><p>“Oh, very well,” said Aziraphale, “but don’t get carried away, dear.The last time you did this, you tried to eat a rubbish bin, and you were sick for a week.”</p><p>“No rubbish bins.Right,Got it,” said Crowley, who kissed Aziraphale and popped off.</p><p>“Boys.”Aziraphale turned toward them, “I’ve placed wards around our cottage, but I think we’ll need to augment Anathema’s wards around Lower Tadfield, and spread them between the leylines that surround the town, so the demons can’t come up through the ground, either.It should have been done in Eden, but I never would have thought it was my place to suggest it.What a milquetoast.”</p><p>With the three of them working, this was quickly done.</p><p>Adam turned to Warlock.</p><p>“We need to get back to class.”</p><p>“They must have missed us by now,” said Warlock.</p><p>“Nope.Not yet.”</p><p>“But, what about him?”Warlock gestured with his chin toward the swings.</p><p>“Crowley and I will think of something,” said Aziraphale.“Adam’s right.You can’t skip class.It’s against the rules.”</p><p>The boys went off, secretly wishing that, in fact, they could skip class, rules or no rules.</p><p>Aziraphale moved Mrs Hellenbach to the chair and snapped his fingers.</p><p>“You will awake from a wonderful sleep, having dreamed of whatever you like best.”</p><p>Crowley reappeared as a giant snake in the middle of the room, and smoothly flowed into his human shape</p><p>“You take care of the bump on the back of her head, too, angel?”</p><p>“Yes, did you remember not to eat the rubbish?” Aziraphale challenged.</p><p>“Not so much as a crisp packet,” said Crowley.</p><p>“I’m taking you at your word, my dear.”</p><p>“Naw, wasn’t particularly peckish.”</p><p>“Now for Ms Crump.”</p><p>They turned.</p><p>Ms Crump was conscious, and looking from one of them to the other with a raised brow.</p><p>“Alright, out with it,” she said.</p><p>Aziraphale raised his hand to snap.</p><p>“Don’t you dare,” she said in her best ‘teacher’ voice.“I want the truth.Now.”</p><p>They exchanged looks.</p><p>“You heard the lady,” said Crowley.</p><p>“Well, I’m not doing this without elevenses,” said Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>“So, let me see if I have this right,” said Ms Crump, as she nursed her cup of tea at their kitchen table.She had taken well to being miracled across the countryside.“You, Mr Fell, are an angel.And you, Mr Crowley, are a demon.You raised Lock together, though neither of you is a blood relation.He was born a normal, everyday, human baby, but close proximity to you in his formative years seems to have led to his acquiring, in part, your ethereal and- er- occult powers.”</p><p>“Precisely,” said Aziraphale, offering her a refilled plate of biscuits.She preferred the ginger molasses.</p><p>“And, are his birth parents living?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Do they know where he is?”</p><p>“Nope,” said Crowley.His tea was liberally dowsed with rum.</p><p>“Nor do they know what he is,” said Aziraphale.“For their safety, as well as his, it’s best they do not know.”</p><p>Ms Crump looked like she could use some rum in her tea as well.</p><p>“Granny didn’t mention this sort of thing,” she said.</p><p>“Beg pardon?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“My grandmother was a hereditary witch.She taught me candle magic, card reading, the tea leaves, that sort of thing.Memory alteration and moving through the ether must have been in the advanced classes.”</p><p>“And, are you acquainted with Ms Device in Jasmine Cottage?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“I’m aware of her.Our paths don’t cross very often.It’s not like every witch personally knows every other which.Truthfully, I find her more than a little intimidating, and that isn’t something I can often say.She’s quite out of my league, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Aziraphale was left to ponder the idea of class division among witches in England.</p><p> </p><p>Given the circumstances, and the hoards of angry, frightened parents storming the school, the giant snake (now a record-sized rainforest anaconda) was checked for, determined to have taken off for parts unknown, and the students were released early.</p><p>R. P. Tyler composed a scathing letter to the editor of the local paper, regarding the irresponsibility of exotic pet owners, and irresponsible exotic pets.Mrs Tyler considered composing her own scathing letter about the circumstances which kept annoying husbands at home and underfoot when they should be about and abroad, taking dogs for their thrice daily constitutionals,</p><p>Warlock went right home, in fact passing Ms Crump on the way out, who smiled warmly at him, asked how his special project was coming along, and got into her miraculously appeared car to drive back to the school to help with damage control.</p><p>He saw she was carrying an entire batch biscuits on one of Aziraphale’s plates.</p><p>Warlock went in, put his things in his room, and jointed Aziraphale and Crowley at the door to the broom cupboard.Crowley opened it to reveal Hastur, still hung upside down, though now from nothing apparent.</p><p>“What are we going to do with him?” Crowley asked in general.“Even if we discorporate him, he’ll just come back.”</p><p>“I don’t know, my dear,” said Aziraphale.“I’m loathe to do it, but we may just have to destroy him entirely.Make an example of him, as it were.I can’t think of anything worse.”</p><p>“I can,” said Warlock.</p><p> </p><p>Hastur smelt something funny, which was odd for him, since his sense of smell hadn’t really worked since he took the boiling sulphur dive way back when.Other demons thought this was the partial reason for his success in the whole demon business.He smelt worse and worse as time went on and it didn’t effect him at all.In the meantime, if he stood still for any length of time, paint peeled from the walls all around him.</p><p>He could be forgiven, then (Ha! Funny!), for thinking it was a sort of olfactory mirage that he could smell… well, he had no idea what it was, only that he suspected it wasn’t demonic.In fact, it tickled a long distant memory of a time he’s been happiest never to recall before.</p><p>Oh, fuck.There was an angel nearby, wasn’t there.And not that prissy chit that went ‘round with Crowley, either.Hastur always thought he’d smell like roses and kittens and luuuurrve.That left, what, ten million other angels it could be.</p><p>He cracked open an eye, then squeezed it tight, overwhelmed by the light after years of satisfactory darkness.He heard the heavenly choir, too, bursting forth, which announced the arrival of an archangel.</p><p>If he was really lucky, it was Michael.Michael was tolerable.Tolerably evil.Though, he’d always let Ligur handle the negotiations there.Best not to get too close, or you might get some of that disgusting righteousness on you, and that was worse to get rid of than snail snot.</p><p>“Wake and arise,” commanded a heavenly voice.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Hastur growled.</p><p>“That is no way to address your superior, Hastiel.”</p><p>“WOT?”</p><p>Hastur’s eyes flew open, pain be damned.He was surrounded by endless white light, and fluffy clouds.He expected unicorns next, with rainbows shooting out their arseholes, but there was only light.Then there was a breeze, and an archangel appeared and it was worse than Hastur thought.</p><p>It wasn’t Michael.</p><p>It was that bastard Raphael.</p><p>And he still owed Raphael that tenner he’d borrowed.</p><p>But Raphael didn’t smell like roses.He always smelt like peppermint.</p><p>Hastur looked all around, but there was no one else for as far as he could see.</p><p>Must be a low-traffic area of heaven.</p><p>He was then struck by a thought so gruesome that he screamed.</p><p>And pulled his hideous, tattered, diseased wings into view.</p><p>But he couldn’t, because they weren’t long enough.</p><p>And looked down at himself, and screamed louder, because he appeared to be wearing an ill-fitting diaper over his adorably round tummy.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, piss, shit, I’m a fuckin’ cherub!”</p><p>“And you’re just so cute I could cry!” Raphael sighed.“Now, here’s your harp.You’re late for practice!”</p><p>“I’m not goin’ t’ no harp practice.”</p><p>A new voice, gruff and low, accompanied the smell of lilacs.</p><p>“You bloody well are,” said the Cherub Ligur, ‘“cos I ain’t goin’ alone!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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